A Comparative Analysis of Host-Parasite Relationships
by Queen Bitterblue
Summary: Leekie offers her a contract with Dyad and an invitation to his bed in the same sentence, a clear statement of where he thinks she belongs and what it takes to get there.


Leekie offers her a contract with Dyad and an invitation to his bed in the same sentence, a clear statement of where he thinks she belongs and what it takes to get there. It hasn't escaped her notice in the tours he gave her while trying to lure her away from the hospital (where she had just taken a post-doc immunology place, one she is loathe to let go) that all of the women at Dyad are beautiful. But, then, Delphine is not foolish or ethical enough to refuse the offer.

Everything about him is perfunctory. Leekie kisses like a man who has read a manual which suggested kissing leads to enhanced physiological response in the recipient. There is no warmth behind it, no trace of desire for her as a person and not as an object. Then again, Delphine doesn't mind so much. It would be worse if he actually enjoyed her company, or she his. He is enthralling. Enthralling is not the same as likeable.

At first he gives her paperwork to read and his office in which to do it. Endless folders of medical histories, school performance, family dynamics. Pathology reports mixed in with graduation announcements. Unwelcome, cool presses of his mouth and his hands touching her only as much as he needs and no more.

She pours over the research.

She pours herself into the research.

Delphine wonders if she has always been this person or if Leekie is a steadily, slowly working venom, inching into her heart drop by drop.

It's a surprise to find him in his office, tinkering with the biomes, so much that she nearly turns and walks out the door.

"I have a new assignment for you," he says. "You've had enough of background research. I need someone to do the actual observations. 324B21 is moving away from her previous monitor. You will be taking over that aspect of the project." Her mind reels, trying to catch up, trying to decide if this is a punishment or a promotion or a lateral shift away from Leekie that she can welcome openly. 324B21. _Cosima_. They all have names. Hers is to be _Cosima_.

Minnesota is cold and Delphine is not amused to be made a student again. The past three years are an artfully constructed trap of lies, each achingly thin and fragile, and the weight of further ones feels like it will crush the air from her lungs each time she speaks them. Cosima, though. Cosima is worth whatever Delphine could say that could keep her near.

That the clones are people she thought she had understood. That she was painfully wrong is apparent in every hitch of Cosima's breath and wrinkle wrought by too much smiling.

Nothing about her is perfunctory. Cosima is overbright and quick and so uncompromisingly human she makes Delphine feel nearly human again, too. It is easy to forget the lies she has placed like hooks into her own skin, pulling her into a shape that isn't quite true and doesn't quite fit, until Cosima looks at her. Delphine could swear she sees each not-right thing for precisely what it is. It should terrify her. After years of slowly simmering self-loathing, it only makes her feel warm. When Cosima kisses her, it is with the steadiness of a woman who knows what she wants. She kisses Delphine until the idea of not kissing her back makes her want to cry, though it takes her nearly a day to remember what the feeling _is_. Craving is not a word she has had cause to use of late.

Delphine wishes she could cut it off with Leekie herself, but she isn't foolish or ethical enough to do so. It ends in stops and starts, not of her own volition but his. He has new distractions, newer toys. And Delphine has Cosima.

Kissing Cosima is good. Touching Cosima is better.

Her mouth is open and hot against Delphine's, tongue sure against lips and teeth. In the rush of nearly forgotten feelings, Delphine almost thinks she can fit this new shape of who she might have been if all of the lies were true. Cosima's hands are steady, warm against her skin, confident. She doesn't take. It isn't for herself except in the joy of giving. She touches and kisses and licks and bites until Delphine remembers what it's like to feel adored.

And then, just when her skin is starting to feel comfortable, habit pulls Delphine into her old shape. It doesn't fit anymore, either.

Delphine shatters.

Cosima is the catalyst. Cosima will burn her from the inside until nothing remains of Delphine Cormier and she is remade into someone worthy of her touch.


End file.
